


Happy New Years, Edamura Makoto

by BuickTom



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Abby Jones is a real one, Chet Baker makes an appearance, Cute, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Holding Hands, Holidays, ITS NEW YEARS BABY, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Paris (City), Pining, Stockholm, Sweet, Winter, in the city of love, just pure fluff, like his music, like the city, not the actual chet baker, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuickTom/pseuds/BuickTom
Summary: Edamura Makoto hates the holidays, maybe Laurent Thierry can change his mind.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 65
Kudos: 657





	1. Chapter 1

Makoto Edamura didn’t like the holidays. He hadn’t liked them for a long time.

One of Makoto’s most precious childhood memories was of Christmas Eve. He couldn’t remember any of the specifics: not his age nor the presents he received. Makoto had learned that once you hit twenty, most of your childhood memories begin to soften into one long, hazy year of youth. What Makoto could remember, however, was his distress. He sat at the table with his mother, Christmas cake and KFC untouched as he’d refused to eat anything.

He was waiting for his dad. His dad had promised Makoto that he would be home for Christmas Eve and Makoto believed him. At that age, Makoto would have followed his father to the ends of the earth. His adoration knew no bounds. He was going to be just like his dad. Finally, Makoto’s mother stood up and began collecting their unused dishes. Her voice wobbled on the ends of words as she said,

“Let’s go to bed then, Makoto.” Looking back, she may have been on the verge of tears. It had been her Christmas Eve as well.

“No.” Makoto rejected the idea obstinately, “dad said he would come.” Makoto was rooted to this spot until he did.

“Makoto…” His mother never finished her sentence because at that moment his father burst into the apartment, a chilling gust of air swept in with him. Makoto didn’t feel it’s bite as he sprung up to hook his arms around his father’s legs.

“Dad!” He could still remember the relief, and the pure, simple joy of that moment. All Makoto had to do was believe and others wouldn’t let him down.

“I promised I’d be here, didn’t I?” His father laughed and scooped Makoto up, carrying him over to his mother and giving her a kiss. Makoto was utterly warm nestled between the heat of them. Once his father let him back down to the ground, he asked,

“How about we go see the lights? It looks like it’s about to snow.” So, they bundled up and left the apartment. It was cold. Makoto didn’t mind though, he always felt warm when he was between his parents. His mother was his guide and his father, his protector. When the snow began its gentle descent earthward, Makoto’s mother had commented softly, as if not to disturb the silence of it.

“Makoto, did you know? If you fall in love with the first snowfall, your love will always last.”

Makoto thought that his mother was so smart, “Did you fall in love with dad when it was snowing?”

His mother just smiled warmly as his father laughed.

What precious time had that been. Oh, how Makoto should have rationed those sweet hours. It didn’t matter either way though, because every one of his most wonderful memories had been defiled. His father, the man who had been his protector turned out to be the one people needed protection from.

Makoto still wondered now, if his father hadn’t actually been at the office putting in extra hours. Rather, he could have been selling somebody off that night and still come home to his own son and wife. How could he have treated the life of another like something to be bet on, to be bought or sold on a whim? However, Makoto could not be drained of the very blood in his veins. He could never escape the sins of his father. He often felt wrong to even believe that his father had ruined his life when the man had taken so much more from so many others. At least Makoto had been happy for a time. At times, those faceless victims tortured him. The thought that he would never know what fate befell those his father had condemned was haunting.

So, Makoto hated the holidays. For this reason and because since his mother passed he hadn’t had anyone to spend them with. Christmas was more manageable, but New Years was unbearable. Edamura dreaded its arrival every year and usually eventually greeted it by getting absolutely slammed.

This year had been shaping up to be more of the same until Laurent called. He called at 3:00 am on December 28th.

“My little Edamame, I hope you’re well?” Laurent didn’t wait for a response, “I miss your clueless face, how long has it been? One week? Two? Either way, I’m having a New Years party on Friday. Abby and Cynthia are attending, and drinks are on me, of course. I trust you’ll come?” Considering that it was 3:00 am, Makoto had just been awakened without preamble, and Laurent was speaking English, it was impressive that Makoto managed a reply at all:

“Huh?”

“You know what. Have you unpacked yet? If not, don’t worry about it. I’ll be by Thursday morning to pick you up.”

“What? Wait, Laurent, I’m in Japan. It’s 3:00 in the morning – “ But Laurent had already hung up.

It took Makoto approximately fifteen minutes to realize what had occurred. Laurent had just invited him to a New Years party. He sent the man a text:

 _asshole_.

But his heartbeat was traitorously fast.

Two days and one thirteen hour flight later, Makoto was freezing his ass off at the Paris international airport. He watched Laurent load his luggage into the trunk of a rental car as he reflected on the flight.

Makoto hadn’t been alone on a flight with Laurent since he’d dragged Makoto to L.A. three years ago and they had been strangers then. This flight had been surprisingly pleasant and not very healthy for his pulse. Laurent had been less provoking than usual and even genuinely kind to Makoto at times. He wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps Laurent had always been at least a little kind to him and he had just been too stubborn to see it. Not that he would ever admit that to Laurent. The kindness had made Makoto frustratingly happy, but that wasn’t what did him in. About seven hours into the flight Laurent had fallen asleep. Slowly but surely and then all at once his head had ended up on Makoto’s shoulder. Makoto had considered shoving him away until he realized that he didn’t really want to.

The emotions the next two hours of the flight had evoked in Makoto had been simultaneously euphoric and terrifying. A truly awful combination. Ultimately, Makoto took one important thing from this experience: Laurent’s hair was just as soft as it looked. Also, he was dying to touch it again.

Makoto scourged these thoughts from his mind when Laurent opened the passenger door for him. It was the only way he could manage to glare at the man as he entered the car. He already knew well that Laurent was a bastard and a player. Makoto Edamura had already suffered enough trauma for one lifetime and wouldn’t have his heart broken by an asshole like Laurent. But, hell if Laurent’s smile that at first had only provoked homicidal thoughts in Makoto, didn't charm him now. Makoto really needed to get his head on straight. Having feelings for Laurent Thierry wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Or, alternatively, he needed Abby to smack some sense into him. He knew she wouldn’t. Not because she wouldn’t hit Makoto, but because it was too much fun to watch him squirm.

“I hope you didn’t already have any plans for New Year’s.”

“You should’ve asked me that before flying to Japan.” He didn’t have plans, but he wasn’t going to give Laurent the satisfaction.

“I apologize.” Laurent glanced at him and winked, “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” Makoto’s heart took off wildly in spite of his head. He covered it by saying,

“If previous experience is anything to go by, I think I’ll pass.”

“Aw, don’t be so cold Edamame. I missed you.” Makoto wished that he could believe that Laurent was being genuine,

“You mean you missed teasing me?” Then Makoto felt warm fingertips brush over the shell of his ear. Laurent had reached over to tuck some of the longer strands of Makoto’s hair behind his ear. It was a simple gesture and Laurent had hardly touched him at all, yet the intimacy of it struck Makoto. He was sure that the places Laurent had touched so briefly were left bright red.

“I wonder if that’s what it is.” Laurent mused, his voice soft and low.

Makoto was still trying to figure out when precisely he had stopped rejecting Laurent’s touch when they arrived at the hotel.

Nineteen year old Makoto would have been stunned by the absolute, unabashed luxury of the hotel they were currently standing in front of. Makoto at twenty-two was more impressed when Laurent unloaded his suitcase from the trunk and carried it for him to the bellhop.

The hotel was an ostensibly expensive affair, so much so that Makoto almost hesitated to call it a hotel. Hotel was a word for outdated rooms with musty carpets and complementary packets of two-in-one shampoo. Makoto was fairly certain that this place didn’t have two-in-one shampoo.

Located on Avenue Montaigne, a stone throw from the Eiffel Tower. The very walls spoke of affluence. The lobby was golden, awash in honeyed light that dripped from chandeliers overhead. Makoto wouldn’t be surprised if they had been crafted from real diamonds, the highest carat. Makoto didn’t even know enough about diamonds to discern what that was. He suddenly felt very self-conscious. He had suspect that the hotel would be nice, so he at least had worn some jeans and a button-up. The idea that this would be appropriate apparel seemed laughable now.

At least Laurent was wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts.

As Makoto followed Laurent through the lobby Makoto thought that the only other place he’d been which held such an air of austerity and prestige was Notre Dame.

The woodsy Shinto shrines of Japan, nestled whimsically among forested mountains and skyscrapers alike, were not the same as the soaring cathedrals of Catholicism or blazing gold of Eastern Orthodoxy. That’s not to say that either one was superior. Makoto just knew his roots. They were buried in the warm, serene faces of kami statues that were like those of old friends.

Shrines with their bells and good luck charms felt settled. The kind of place some god or another could reach out and touch you. They felt like respite for humans and spirits, blurring the lines between the two. Even so, standing in this lobby pushed Makoto to practice reverence. Which was stupid, he knew. This place was the antithesis of a chapel.

“Welcome to the Alain Ducasse au Plaza Athenee. Have you heard of it?” Laurent guided Makoto through a hall with big, arching windows framed in dark, gleaming wood.

“No.” Makoto admitted begrudgingly. “Why would I know?”

“You’re right. This is probably disgustingly excessive to the Japanese.” Makoto didn’t know what it had to do with being Japanese, this was disgustingly excessive to anyone with sense.

They entered a pristine elevator with tiled floors. An actual person, a young woman, asked them which floor they were on in perfect English. The ride up to Laurent’s room was silent, however as soon as they exited the elevator and the doors slid shut behind them Makoto turned on Laurent. He was already smiling, a potentially deadly weapon,

“What the hell?” Makoto nearly whispered. It was deadly quiet in the hall.

“We’ll be entertaining some special guests tonight.” Laurent’s eyes glinted, bright and dangerous.

“I should’ve known.” Makoto took off down the hall, there was only one door. Laurent pursued as he added,

“If it makes any difference, I also wanted to treat you all to something nice.”

“This isn’t just nice.” Once Makoto reach the door he turned to face Laurent. Laurent shrugged and slid next to him to unlock the door.

“Only the best for you, little Edamame.” He smiled something dangerously soft as he opened the door. Makoto would’ve protested if he wasn’t utterly flabbergasted by what lay behind the door.

Makoto was absolutely, one-hundred fucking percent correct about his previous statement regarding the excessive luxury. He knew it because of the grand piano gleaming proudly in one corner of the room. The marble fireplace in the center of the room didn’t help either. Nor did the unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower from one of the windows on the far side of the room. Aside from all that the suite was richly furnished, cozy with rugs, plush couches, and useless throw pillows imported from countries Makoto wouldn’t be able to pronounce the names of. A fire purred contentedly in the hearth and fresh flowers sat in vases on every end table.

There were French doors on the right side of the room, opened to invite guests into the attached room. The room beyond the doors was just as extravagant as the first, if not more so. The walls were panels of wood, dark and richly colored with intricate designs carved into their faces. A row of chandeliers bathed the room in warm, ambient light. Antique couches similar to the ones settled in the first were lined against the walls, leaving the middle of the room open.

To complete the utterly nonsensical luxury of the room was a full bar in one corner of the room. A few doors lined the walls adjacent to and opposite from the bar. Makoto guessed those led to bedrooms, bathrooms, and possibly a kitchen. He felt like he might be physically ill at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Would you like me to show you the library?” Laurent’s voice was warm on the shell of his ear. Makoto covered it and whipped his head around. That smile again.

“You’re kidding.”

Laurent shrugged. “If you don’t believe me – “

“Edamame!” Cynthia interrupted sweeping Makoto into a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s only been a few weeks.” He muttered as he returned the hug. He could do without the nickname, but it had moved past mocking and entered affectionate territory after the two became closer in London. Cynthia released him and stepped aside. Abbie stood behind her. The younger woman nodded at him and uttered a simple,

“What’s up?” And that was enough.

Both women were decked out. Cynthia in skinny red heels and a form-fitting dress, red to match, with a plunging neck-line and a high-cut slit. The dress along with the necklace, rings, and earrings she wore all shimmered nearly blindingly. With her hair swept up into an elegant updo that was most likely more complicated than it looked, she was as dangerously beautiful as ever.

Abbie wore something more simple, classic black pumps and a short black dress that draped over her shoulders, but certainly not her back. The only jewelry she wore was pearl earrings and a delicate pearl necklace. Her hair was down, Makoto noted that it had gotten longer again, and it suited her well.

“You two look – good.”

“Just good? Give me something a little more substantial and I might allow you to be my date.” Cynthia winked and grinned. Abby snickered,

“What makes you think he wants to be your date?” The two women shared a meaningful look. Not sure how to handle that information, Makoto turned to Laurent,

“Who’s our target tonight?”

“About that. You don’t need to worry your pretty head, Edamame. I’ll be the only one handling our guest of honor tonight. You and the girls can just enjoy yourselves and keep an eye on our other guests.” Makoto tried to figure out if Laurent meant anything by that, but he came up empty-handed. He knew that Laurent almost always said one thing with two things in mind, and if not two things then three.

“Why don’t you go get dressed? I need you to leave a good impression. You all represent me, after all.”

“I didn’t pack – “

“Go into the lounge, then third door down. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

Laurent looked infuriatingly good. Makoto didn’t know why. He had seen the man in a suit many times before, tonight was just different. Maybe Makoto was a little tipsier than he thought, maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the way he had gelled his hair, maybe it was the rings he wore on those long fingers that he was certain could and had touched –

“If you’re going to pine so obviously, could you do it somewhere else?” Abby’s voice abruptly interrupted his train of thought. Probably for the best, he was about the wander into dangerous territory.

“I’m not pining.” Makoto snorted.

The two of them had socialized with guests for approximately half an hour before retreating to a couch in the corner with a bottle of Belvedere and two shot glasses. Makoto couldn’t speak passable French when sober, he certainly didn’t have any better luck when slightly inebriated. Plus, he had a feeling that although no one was saying it, many of the guests were interested in him in the same way people were interested in a dog. At one point he had been standing next to Cynthia and another guest had directed a question about Makoto’s age and hometown to her, in English.

“Whatever you say, soy boy.” Abby slurred before downing another shot. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then picked up the bottle and filled Makoto’s glass.

“I’m just here to get drunk.” Makoto could drink to that. He downed his shot, felt it burn down his throat and loosen his tongue.

“All I’m saying is that he doesn’t have to flirt with him like that.” Makoto’s eyes wandered back to Laurent where he was smiling charmingly at another man. The other man was quite good-looking himself, certainly easier on the eyes than Makoto. Worst of all he was tall, standing eye to eye with Laurent. Fuck him. Makoto knew he was Laurent’s next victim; he was probably a bad person either way. So doubly fuck him.

“Dunno, don’t care. If you want Laurent so much, just fuck him. He’s not picky.”

“Don’t want to fuck him.”

“Then you wanna marry him or something?”

“No!”

“Okay.” Abby drew out the ‘o’ as she slouched further in the seat, “Wow, this couch is comfortable. You think they’d be shitty cause they’re like two hundred years old.” She began rubbing her hands across the fabric of the seat. Makoto wondered how much Vodka she’d had. Regardless, they were definitely probably too drunk.

“Scoot over, Edamame.” Cynthia had approached them. Makoto complied and she plopped down next to him. She picked up Abby’s shot and downed it without blinking.

“I’m bored of this. Also, I could hear your jealousy from across the room.”

“You can’t _hear_ jealousy.” Abby argued.

“Fine. I could _feel_ your jealousy from across the room.”

“I’m not fucking jealous.” Makoto slouched next to Abby even as he watched Laurent touch the other man’s hand briefly.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” Cynthia pulled Makoto’s head to her chest and began petting his hair, “Don’t be sad. You know you’re his boo.” She cooed. Makoto felt his face flush.

“Be quiet.” He mumbled. When she released him, he noticed a veritable pack of men eyeing them from across the room.

“I think your harem is feeling lonely, Cynthia.” “Eh,” Cynthia flapped a hand in their general direction,

“They’ll find someone else to fall into bed with. I don’t give up the goods that easily.”

“Unlike some people.” Abby snorted. “Hey! No slut shaming Laurent.” Cynthia poured Makoto a shot, “besides, there’s only one special guy he wants to bed these days.” She grinned unabashedly at Makoto. He buried his face in his hands,

“Stop. That’s not true.”

“Everyone,” Laurent announced minutes from midnight, “Why don’t we move to the balconies for a better view?” Cynthia and Abby had to pull Makoto up from the couch. He didn’t really care to see any fireworks, that’s not really how he grew up celebrating New Years either way. Plus, it was cold as balls when they made it out to the balcony and the other guests had already crowded the space so they couldn’t see much.

So, when the fireworks began Makoto could hear them more than see them. Makoto also saw more than a few tongues of people swapping spit, but he already knew that the rich were unsavory. He retreated to his couch in the corner after catching a glimpse of a hand cupping a breast under the dress. He needed more alcohol.

Abby wasn’t far behind him. Abby threw her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

“Is someone in a shitty mood because he didn’t get a kiss?” she laughed and then without hesitation laid a wet kiss on his cheek. Something, though he couldn’t quite pin it down, was funny about it. Makoto turned to look at Abby and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. They both burst out laughing. Cynthia crashed into the couch next to Abby and asked,

“What’s so funny?” Abby wiped the tears from her eyes and managed between gasps,

“I – I fucking kissed soy bean.”

“What?” Cynthia looked indignant, “Why’d he get a kiss, but not me?” Abby immediately pulled herself up to smack a kiss on Cynthia’s cheek and managed instead to land it on her nose. Both women crashed back into the couch laughing hysterically. Makoto noticed that there was still vodka in the bottle and proceeded to fill both of the shot glasses. Abby grabbed hers and immediately choked on it because she began giggling as she was drinking it. Makoto pounded her back as she coughed, still laughing. He couldn’t help himself either and began laughing again along with Cynthia.

“It seems that I missed out on a lot of fun during the past five hours.” Laurent said as he approached the three of them. Abby stood up, wobbled for a moment, and pointed an accusatory finger at the man.

“That’s cause you were fucking flirting with another man. Cheater!” Cynthia scooted across the couch and hugged Makoto to her, causing him to spill some of his vodka on her dress.

“How could you, Laurent? Poor Edamame had to watch you having eye sex with that – that whore!” She was petting Makoto’s hair again. Makoto nodded a little, realized what he was doing and instead tried not to make eye contact with Laurent. He couldn’t really say anything, words were becoming harder and harder to grasp as the night went on.

“Well, he’s mine now. We even kissed, consummated the – uh, the union and everything!” Abby still had not sat down nor lowered her finger. Laurent genuinely looked surprised for the briefest moment, then he schooled his features into a polite smile,

“Oh? It seems that you are very committed to this relationship. You wouldn’t want me butting in.”

“No!” Cynthia and Abby said in unison.

“Then mind if I sit?” Abby landed back on the couch with a resolute ‘pouf’ and nodded sagely,

“Of course, please join us, good Frenchman.” Laurent squished onto the couch next to Makoto which was not good at all for Makoto’s heartrate.

“How do you all feel about Stockholm?”

“Syndrome?” Cynthia asked and the three more inebriated occupants of the couch giggled.

“I mean the city. I have a job there, and if all goes as planned here, I should be leaving next week. As always, you three are invited.” Cynthia ostensibly pretended to think for a moment, even stroking her chin before shrugging,

“I haven’t turned you down in years, I’m in.”

“Okay.” Abby sunk down into the couch, closing her eyes, “I’m sleepy.” She rested her head against Makoto’s side. Laurent turned to look at Makoto. Makoto had been too busy trying not to focus on the warmth of Laurent’s body pressed against his, touching from their shoulders to their thighs. Also, he was very drunk. So, he said,

“I’ll – I’ll do it.” Laurent looked pleased, but certainly not surprised. It kind of pissed Makoto off and admittedly he was a little bitter that Laurent had spent the whole night flirting with some random guy so he said:

“Your party was tacky.” Makoto folded his arms petulantly, or tried to, but his left arm was kind of trapped between him and Laurent. Laurent laughed,

“I should’ve known.”

“New Years is an important holiday, okay Laurent? Important.” He swiveled around as much as he could and poked Laurent in the chest with his free hand. “The Japanese have celebrated it for hundreds – no thousands of years! It’s a spiritual holiday, you have to – “ Makoto flailed with his hand, “You have to practice proper observance, okay? Like – like hatsumode, you know? But we’re in fucking France so there’s not even a Shinto shrine. How are we supposed to tell god what we want? You never think about these things Laurent.” Makoto shook his head as Abby fell asleep against him and Cynthia nodded in agreement,

“You’ll never get good luck if you don’t do hatsumode. And then – and then we have to eat osechi or… zoni sounds good…” He trailed off. He really fucking wanted some zoni.

“What’s hatsumode?” Cynthia giggled as Makoto zoned out. Laurent shrugged and pulled out his phone,

“The first shrine visit of the year in Japan.” He answered after a moment. Suddenly Makoto grabbed Laurent’s arm and looked at him seriously,

“Hey Laurent, let’s do hatsumode.”

“Sure, I can look up a shrine tomo – “Laurent broke off when Makoto rose to his feet dragging Laurent up with him. Abbie startled awake as Laurent stumbled.

“No. Now.” Makoto was dangerously close to pouting. Cynthia sprung up as well,

“Yes! Let’s go!”

“Go where?” Abby asked foggily.

“Hatsumode. Obviously.” Cynthia informed her. Meanwhile, Laurent was looking at Makoto. Makoto held his gaze for once, probably because he didn’t have the presence of mind to think of doing otherwise.

“You’re too cute, Edamame.” Laurent sighed, “Let’s go.” Makoto and Cynthia shouted triumphantly and went to retrieve their coats. Abby stumbled after them once she was present enough to get off the couch.

As they walked, or stumbled in the case of Makoto and Abby, down the street they were surrounded by similarly drunk French. Uproarious laughter and music poured out from bar doors as people entered and exited, their arrivals and departures marked by sounds of bells. A couple was making a snowman with the slush which had accumulated on the sidewalk.

However, as Laurent led them to likely the only Shinto shrine in Paris which he had found via Google Maps, the streets grew quiet. The biting air was sobering Makoto up as well as Cynthia and Abby from the looks of it, though he still felt pleasantly warm from the alcohol.

The shrine was not very subtle. After all, it was the only Eastern style building in a sea of French grandeur. It wasn’t big and it looked slightly unkempt from the outside but looking at it gave Makoto a sense of comfort. It looked like any other Shinto shrine. The other three stayed behind as Makoto went to push the doors of the small building open. All that was inside was a small offering box along with an indistinct statue of some god or another. He turned to the other three,

“Come here. I’ll show you how it’s done.” They squeezed in around him.

“Do you guys have any yen?”

“Why do Japanese gods not accept French currency?” Abby asked.

“Never mind, I have enough for all of us.” Makoto huffed and rummaged around in the wallet for a moment before pulling out a five yen coin.

“You have to use five yen.” He commented as he turned back to the offering box. Then, as the others watched on he tossed the coin in, rang the small bell above the box, bowed twice and clapped twice. He thought for a moment. Makoto didn’t know what to pray for. He had never had much luck, so it felt futile to pray for it explicitly. He didn’t care for money, wasn’t in school anymore, and didn’t have any job prospects nor was he in a relationship. A quiet, secret wish crept into the forefront of his mind. At first he attempted to will it away. After a moment he realized, he might as well.

_Please tell me what I’m doing. Let me become who I’m meant to become. Let Laurent open up to me._

He closed the prayer with another bow. A farewell to the local god if they were even present in this far removed land. He turned to the others, who had respectfully fallen silent as they watched him. He nodded,

“That’s how you do it.”

“We just have to be quiet for a couple seconds?” Abby asked, genuinely.

“No, you’re supposed to say a prayer. Just ask for whatever you want in the New Year.” Abby nodded thoughtfully then announced,

“I’ll go next.” Before marching up to the shrine. She was followed by Cynthia and finally Laurent. Makoto watched the man, his light hair blue and silver in the moonlight. The expression on his face was utterly reverent.

Laurent finished and turned around to announce, “Now food?”

The other three nodded eagerly and they huddled together to find a place to eat on Laurent’s phone.

They ended up at a ramen place, much to Makoto’s distaste. Ramen was fine, but it was different in Paris and it wasn’t a New Years food. He made as much clear to the others. Even if they weren’t going to do it right this year, he would bring them to Japan the next and they needed to know this information for that. He was still happy. It had been a very long time since Makoto had spent New Years with people he cared about.

Crowded around a table at the ramen shop, swimming in the smell of alcohol that came off the other occupants of the restaurant and most likely themselves, Makoto felt that maybe he could make new memories with these people. They were all bastards, every last one of them, but so was he.

It began snowing as they trudged back to the hotel. They walked in silence even as others around them continued their celebrations. The excitement of going out was now behind them along with the effects of the alcohol and with their stomachs full Makoto was sure the others felt just as sleepy as he did. He was struggling to keep his eyes open even out here in the cold.

“Hey, I think this is a shortcut.” Abby pointed down an emptier street. Cynthia shrugged and followed the younger woman. Makoto didn’t have the energy to protest and Laurent probably wouldn’t even if he did, so they followed suit as well.

This street was quieter than the others as well, most of the buildings hosting antique or instrument shops, nothing that would be open at this hour regardless of the time of year. In fact, Makoto would bet money that the owners of these shops were out celebrating themselves.

Makoto was still rolling this thought around in his mind when he noticed Laurent had stopped walking and fallen behind him. He turned to look back at the other man as the girls walked further and further away.

“What are you doing?” Makoto asked.

“Come here, Makoto.” Makoto complied mainly for the use of his actual name. The only sound as he walked over to the other man was the crunch of fresh snow under his shoes. When he reached Laurent, Laurent smiled at him.

“Makoto, we’ve celebrated New Years the Japanese way.” Makoto was about to protest but the next half of Laurent’s sentence silenced him, “Would you celebrate it with me the French way?”

Makoto was puzzled. “What?”

“Abby got hers, but I still haven’t received a New Year’s kiss.”

Silence laid thick and breathless between them for a few moments until Makoto realized what Laurent was asking. Laurent didn’t seem to be willing to leave anything up to interpretation though because then he added,

“Makoto, is it okay if I kiss you?”

Makoto stood very still and pressed his lips into a thin line. That was a question. Was it okay if Laurent kissed him? Laurent Thierry was a bastard and a player and Makoto knew that, but he had never heard Laurent speak this way. Laurent Thierry may break his heart in the future, would probably break his heart. But Laurent Thierry was empathetic, endlessly intelligent, and above all a kind-hearted person even in his general apathy. Makoto knew he would regret it for the rest of his life if he said no.

So, he stared down at the snow beneath their feet, already impressed with their footsteps and nodded. He watched as Laurent’s feet shuffled closer to his and felt it when a warm palm cupped his cheek guiding it up. The closeness of their faces when Makoto finally looked up sent his heart racing. He could feel Laurent’s warm breath on his lips. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t.

Something weighty and potent hung between them in the moment before the kiss. It crashed down all around them when Laurent’s lips met Makoto’s.

It was sesame oil and ginger and soy sauce. It was fine wine and a hint of mint. It was rough stubble and it was warm and sweet. And damn, Laurent was a great kisser.

This kiss was probably meant to be a peck, but it turned into mouths sliding together and a hint of Laurent’s tongue along his lips and teeth. Laurent’s hand was warm on his cheek and waist, spots of burning heat in the January air. The back of his neck was even warmer where Makoto had wrapped his arms around Laurent.

They broke apart, “Makoto,” Laurent breathed after a moment, it was hardly a word, more of a thought. They looked at one another, altogether too close and painfully far away at once,

“Your hands are cold.” Laurent added, shattering the mood. It was probably for the best because Makoto couldn’t tell how drunk he still was. He didn’t think he would regret this though. Laurent reached out for Makoto’s hand. Makoto, still blown away by the events of the past five minutes, offered it docilely.

Laurent laced their fingers together and pulled both their hands into his jacket pocket. As they began walking Makoto considered just how cheesy it was, but realized it didn’t annoy him. He actually liked it.

Shit. He was screwed.


	2. II: In which Laurent Thierry and Edamura Makoto actually get together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're in Stockholm. Abby decides to take matters into her own hands. Decisions are made. Laurent and Edamura both like the blues and they kiss more.

Abby was fucking cold.

Unfortunately, this winter’s escapade had taken Laurent and company to Stockholm, Sweden. Abby would have happily tagged along any other time of year, but considering it was early January and had been steadily snowing for the past five hours, she was not pleased. Especially since she had only agreed to this after approximately eight shots of Belvedere vodka at Laurent’s New Years Eve bash.

Her only consolation was that the damned vodka had also been the downfall of a slightly sloppier Cynthia and indefinitely more sloppy Edamame. That and Edamame had given Laurent a full lecture on the cultural significance and spiritual importance of a shrine visit on New Year’s after agreeing to Laurent’s scheme.

That’s how 3:00 am on January 1st had found the four of them crowded around a table at a tiny ramen place after visiting the only possibly actually Shinto, possibly a laughable imitation of a Shinto shrine in Paris. An uncannily appropriate place for conmen to pray.

Edamame, who was still quite tipsy, had coached each of them through how to offer a proper prayer at the dubious shrine. Abby didn’t know what the others prayed for, but she asked for England to get fucking destroyed in the World Cup. The whole time they were at the restaurant Edamame had complained noisily that ramen wasn’t eaten on New Year’s Day. It didn’t mask his pleased expression.

“Did you know?” speak of the devil and he shall appear, Edamura sidled up next to Abby under the streetlight. Which was on because the sun went down at 3:00 pm in this godforsaken country, “The snowiest place in the world is Tokamachi, Japan. They get about 1170 centimeters a year.” Abby looked up at the man. His face was flushed red by the cold and his nose was already running a little. Gross. She sniffed,

“Why?”

Edamura grinned, it wobbled as he said, “Just wanted to remind you that it could be worse before I told you that our guy actually went for Cynthia’s bait and you don’t need to be hanging out here.”

“Fuck you. No, actually, fuck Laurent,” they both knew she wasn’t being serious, “wanna grab drinks?” Makoto Edamura was an utter fool most of the time, but an honest one and more importantly an honestly kind one. Abby would never admit it in as many words, but she respected Makoto more than most anyone in her life. Or at least she knew that he was really her friend and that meant a whole lot.

“Oh. Actually, I have other plans. Sorry, Abby! Let’s do it tomorrow?” Abby couldn’t tell if the young man’s ears had just gotten redder or if it was a trick of the streetlight flickering above them.

“You have plans? With who?”

“Uh…” Edamura stared at his feet as his shoulders crept up near his ears. He was really a terrible liar when it didn’t count, “Just some guys we’re working with. Again, sorry! I really wish I could get out of it, but tomorrow, alright?”

Okay, Abby would play along.

“Sure, whatever. I’ll just drink with Cynthia. She gets really clingy though, it’s annoying.”

Edamura laughed like what Abby said wasn’t at all funny, “Yeah, I get it. Alright, well, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later, Abby!” And with a wave he disappeared down the street.

Huh.

“Edamame’s on a date with Laurent.” Abby said with her eyes glued to the screen. Drinking with Cynthia meant watching The Crown reruns with glasses of Merlot and Cynthia’s feet or head stuck in her lap. This time it was feet.

“He told you that?” Apparently it was interesting enough that Cynthia removed her eyes from the screen to look at Abby.

“Not in so many words, no. He told me that he was hanging with guys we’re working with,” She bracketed the last four words of her sentence with air quotes.

“He’s terrible liar.”

“I know. I don’t understand why they aren’t telling us though. At least Laurent has to know that we know.”

Cynthia laughed, “Laurent is a flirt, but completely hopeless in romance. Do you remember -” Then she paused. Cynthia’s feet left Abby’s lap and suddenly Cynthia was sitting up grabbing her shoulders.

“Abby.”

“What?”

“Abby. I know we joke about it, but what if they _aren’t_ dating.”

Abby scoffed and took a sip from her glass. She paused. No,

“Shit. I think you’re right.” The two women sat in silence for a moment.

“God, they’re hopeless.” Cynthia sighed.

“Hey. Why don’t we help them out a little?” Abby grinned at Cynthia. It was a dangerous look on her.

When Abby returned to the apartment from a particularly well-placed trip to the grocery store during which she had accidentally bumped into the wife of Senator Emil Berg, the only person in the apartment was Edamura. Good.

Edamura was asleep on the couch in the living area, laid flat across the cushions with his arms folded across his chest and a thin book covering his face. Even better.

Abby removed her boots, scarf, and gloves at the door. Then she crouched down on the floor next to couch, her face inches from Edamura’s. She lifted the book with one hand and pinched his nose with the other. Edamura sputtered awake in seconds,

“What the fuck Laurent?” He asked groggily.

“Sorry to disappoint, Edamame. Not your boyfriend, just Abby.” Abby answered as she stood up again.

Edamura squinted up at her, his hair wild and his expression disgruntled.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, alright.” Abby plopped down on the couch and since Edamura was still stretched across it she actually plopped down on his legs. Edamura grunted. Abby crossed her legs.

“Cynthia and I both saw you two sucking face on New Year’s.”

Edamura buried his face in his hands,

“You saw? Don’t say it like that.”

“How could we miss it? We were literally all walking together and suddenly you two stopped. We were still on the same street, you know?”

Edamura just groaned, Abby swore that the tips of his ears were actually red.

“So, don’t even try to deny. You two are so obvious it’s physically painful.”

Edamura dropped his head back to rest on the arm of the couch,

“We’re not though.”

“What?”

“Yeah we – um – you know… but he hasn’t said anything about a relationship.”

“First of all, I _don’t_ know, and I don’t want to know either. Second of all, you know that _you_ can bring it up?”

Edamura looked at her like she was insane,

“I don’t know how serious he is,” He lowered his eyes and mumbled, “What if this is just a fling for him… it would be embarrassing…”

Abby thought for a moment, tried to imagine dating Laurent and almost vomited. She could see where Edamura was coming from because Laurent hardly wore his true emotions on his sleeve. It could be difficult to distinguish when he was being earnest.

However, she thought that if Laurent intended to maintain a purely physical relationship with Edamura, he probably would’ve made that clear. Also, she had never seen Laurent genuinely pursue someone as much as he did Edamura. That was too embarrassing to say though, so instead Abby settled for,

“Okay. I’ll help you.”

“What?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m gonna make things happen.” She got off of Edamura’s legs.

“What do you mean? What are you going to do Abby?”

Abby had already turned to leave when she said,

“I said don’t worry about it. If I get you in on it, you’ll just ruin it.”

“Abby, I really – “She never heard the rest of his sentence because she had already left the room.

Abby didn’t do anything for about a week. She didn’t want Edamura to be suspicious. She would’ve waited longer, but Edamura was pretty short-sighted. He forgot, or more likely totally ignored, things he didn’t like in minutes.

“Edamame,” Abbie crashed into her friend’s back, wrapping her arms around the man and squeezing, “Take me on a date.”

Edamura was currently elbows deep in dirty sink water as he did the dishes. They didn’t actually utilize any dishes, aside from cups and Edamura carried around metal chopsticks because he was special.

However, after two weeks in the same hotel room, even those began to pile up. Edamura was the most concerned with cleanliness out of the four of them, so the responsibility of washing dishes fell on him.

Laurent was laid out across the couch in the living area behind them. Only his arms holding a book above his head were visible from where the other two stood. However, he’d sat up at Abbie’s words. Good.

“Okay.” Makoto replied unphased, “Where do you want to go?” Abbie hooked her chin over his shoulder and grinned.

“Take me out for coffee, then take me to the playhouse. There’s a play I want to see while we’re here. It’ll be romantic.”

Edamura pulled the plug on the sink drain and turned to give her a puzzled look.

“Okay? When do we need to leave?”

“Let’s go now!”

“Sure. Let me just wash up and change.”

“Yay!” Abby sing-songed still clinging to Edamura. She followed Edamura to his room, glancing at Laurent as she left. He was fully sitting up now watching her and Edamura with his brow furrowed slightly. Abby knew that he probably could already see what she was doing. That didn’t really matter. Logic doesn’t ever get the job done when it comes to matters of the heart.

Two days later when Abby came out into the living room after finishing her shower, she immediately noticed Laurent and Edamura. Not because they were sitting on the couch, because they did that a lot. Instead it was because they were pressed together, they had the whole couch, Laurent didn’t need to be nearly sitting in Edamura’s lap. Also, Laurent had placed a hand scandalously high on one of Edamura’s thighs.

Abby wondered briefly if she was really doing the right thing. If they weren’t together and they were still acting this disgusting, she could only imagine how gross they’d be when they started dating.

Then she thought about how Edamura had spent most of Laurent’s New Year’s party complaining loudly and colorfully about Laurent flirting with another guy. She was doing what needed to be done. for her own mental health.

So, she didn’t feel a bit of remorse as she dropped down on the couch right between them, which meant she was on top of them at first because between them was a nonexistent space. The men scooted aside to open a space between them immediately. Abby smiled,

“What are we doing?”

“Uh… We – were just looking at videos we got from the CTV at Berg’s hotel.” Edamura was looking adamantly at the floor as he answered her. At least he was somewhat self-aware.

“Oh, well. Let’s see.” Abby leaned forward to press play on the laptop. She put her hand on Edamura’s thigh as she did so, right where Laurent’s hand had been moments before. Hers might’ve even been a little higher too.

Laurent sank back into the couch.

As they watched the footage, Abby removed her hand from Edamura’s thigh only to replace it with an arm around his shoulders. He gave her a curious look. God, he was clueless. It was beyond her how he had even managed to become a conman at all.

She began playing with his hair.

“Abby.” Laurent pinned her with a look and a smile, his eyes were as cunning and relaxed as ever, but he didn’t fool Abby. There was the slightest twitch in his right eyebrow. “I just remembered. I need you to grab some things for our dinner with the Berg’s tomorrow night. Do you mind running to the store now?”

Abby smiled. “Right now?”

“Yes, if you could.”

Abby shrugged, still smiling. “Don’t know what the rush is, but alright.” She used Edamura’s shoulder as leverage to get up. Before she left, she threw out,

“Let’s hang out tonight, Edamura.”

“Again?”

Over the course of the week Abby became increasingly less subtle. She made sure to touch Edamura at every chance, she asked him to come out with her and Cynthia every night, she would always be the closest person to him in any room, and above all she never let him and Laurent be alone. She could tell Laurent was nearing his breaking point would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little scared of that. At the same time it was even better because she knew that he knew what she was doing.

Edamura had even cornered her at one point to ask what was going on with her, to which she answered that she was just trying to be closer with him.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. Abby did want to grow closer to Edamura because she liked him in spite of the fact that he was a coward and a virgin. This just wasn’t the way she wanted to get closer.

Edamura, touched, had said that he wanted to become closer too and it did make Abby feel a tiny bit guilty. Whatever, she was doing this for his sake.

Laurent finally broke on Saturday night, after Abby had kissed Edamura’s cheek and would absolutely not let him sit anywhere without being right beside him. Which was interesting because Abby had also kissed Edamura on New Year’s and Laurent hadn’t had anything to say about it then.

Abby was snuggled up to Edamura on the couch, her head on his shoulder while Laurent burned holes into the backs of their head from the kitchen table. He sat there with his knuckles pressed to his lips for about ten minutes. Abby knew because she made sure to look back at him and grin every thirty seconds.

Laurent stood from his seat abruptly, sending his chair noisily skidding a few inches across the tiled floor.

“Edamame, do you mind stepping out with me? I think I need some fresh air.”

Edamura immediately looked at Abby with big eyes. She shrugged, moving so that Edamura could get up. She watched with satisfaction as they left the hotel.

Damn. Playing the good Samaritan was a great feeling.

Makoto and Laurent walked side-by-side down the street in silence. Makoto wondered if he should say something, Laurent clearly didn’t just want to get some ‘fresh air’.

He tried to focus on where he was walking, the crunch of snow under his shoes, and how the cold stung his face. He found it impossible mostly because Laurent’s shoulder kept brushing against his and he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his own heart. Edamura had thought that he had become more accustomed to Laurent’s affection, nearness, and, well, he had just gotten more comfortable with Laurent over the past couple weeks. Right now, he was nervous in spite of all that.

Makoto wondered briefly if Laurent was nervous too.

Before he would’ve thought that there was no way Laurent could be nervous, it simply didn’t seem to be an emotion someone like him could feel. Now though, Makoto wondered if he really might be. 

Laurent stopped. So, Makoto did as well. He hadn’t realized that though they were walking side-by-side Laurent was still leading him somewhere. Probably because he’d been looking at his feet the whole time. Now he bid them farewell and rose his eyes to see where Laurent had taken him.

It was a park.

Makoto thought this: Laurent always took him to beautiful places.

The thin, topmost branches of barren winter trees quivered over their heads. The wind whispered in the spaces between them like a soft hum, familiar and new all at once. In between the trees Makoto could hear the laughter and the giddy screams of children, muted either by the snow or distance. He could make them out, far off to their left. A group of kids; puffy, clumsy creatures in their huge and bright winter coats, gloves, and snow boots.

They seemed to have found a hill and were sledding down it with increasingly unconventional objects. Makoto watched as a small girl with bright red boots and hair plaits which were aggressively trying to escape their ties spun down on a metal baking sheet. She crashed into the softer powder at the bottom of the hill. Immediately she sprung up and shook herself off like a dog. A taller boy in matching boots came to her and brushed snow off her head and shoulders. Her brother, maybe.

A trail cut through the center of the park. Although there was nobody particularly close to Makoto and Laurent, Makoto could make out the dark shapes of couples and families moving away from them along the path.

To their left was a small pavilion and fountain. The fountain was topped with the likeness of a small boy crouching with a large pot that poured nothing into the lower tiers of the fountain. Makoto imagined that during other times of year the pot would supply the fountain with water. Now, the only thing the fountain held was heaping piles of snow.

Sitting under the pavilion was a small group of what appeared to be art students. They sat in front of drawing boards on easels and silently moved their pencils across the boards. Makoto wondered what they were even drawing. They must be cold though because the students were even more bundled up than the children and were near enough that Makoto could still make out their flushed cheeks. One girl held a small speaker in her lap. A bluesy tune hovered in the icy air, soft and familiar.

“This song…” It was the first thing Laurent had said since they left the hotel.

“Chet Baker, Time After Time. I know.” Makoto shuffled his feet. Laurent looked a bit surprised.

“My – uh, parents went to see in him in Tokyo in the 80s. It was one of their first dates.” Makoto explained.

“I’m sorry.” Laurent truly looked sorry.

“Don’t be,” Makoto shook his head, “It’s a good song.”

They were silent for a moment. The trumpet solo played, achingly gentle and forlorn.

“I’ll take you to see the blues, Makoto.”

“It’d better be a good band.”

“Of course. Only the best for you.” Makoto remembered when Laurent had said the same thing to him weeks ago on New Year’s. The only difference was now Makoto knew that Laurent meant it.

Laurent offered Makoto his hand. Makoto, who had only weeks ago been hesitant about every touch and every glance, took it without thought. Laurent’s hand was warm. He wanted to laugh or maybe do something dumb like kiss Laurent. He tried not to think about it, now was probably not the time. Makoto recognized the look on Laurent’s face, however subtle it was. Laurent was thinking. They began walking.

When the children and artists were nothing more than faint blurs of color and Chet’s melancholy crooning strained to reach their ears, Laurent paused and looked at Makoto.

“Makoto – “He began.

“Laurent, let’s just be a couple.” Makoto blurted out before the other could finish. Laurent let go of his hand and covered his face. For a moment Makoto was frozen. He couldn’t see what kind of expression Laurent was making and he didn’t know if he’d said the right thing.

“No. I mean – uh, nevermind. You can just ig – “ When Makoto took a step back Laurent lowered his hand from his face to grab hold of Makoto’s wrist. Then Laurent closed the distance between them and kissed Makoto.

It was different than that first kiss they had shared on New Year’s. It was different because now Laurent tasted like cinnamon, the coffee Makoto had made him about half an hour ago, and maybe even a little like Makoto. This kiss was more familiar, comfortable, as natural as stretching just as you wake up in the morning or rubbing your eyes when tired. It was scary how accustomed to this, to Laurent, Makoto had already become. This was different from that first kiss because Makoto now knew the name for that dangerous, heavy thing which hovered over them.

It was love.

No.

Not love. Not yet. It was more like something dangerously close to love. The kinetic energy necessary for affection to grow into love.

Laurent’s hands were still firebrands and Makoto didn’t want to be cold ever again. So, he clung to Laurent as the other man murmured, unbearably fond,

“You, Makoto Edamura, are so _good_.” Makoto didn’t know what to say to that so instead he buried a hand in Laurent’s hair, it was still so soft, and guided his head down so Makoto could kiss him again. They didn’t say anything for a while.

When they were finished Laurent hugged Makoto and said into his ear,

“Please, call me yours, then.”

Makoto flushed and nearly pushed Laurent away until the man added,

“I’m very happy, right now.” His hair was soft and golden in the light of the now setting sun, a lovely contrast to the sparkling blue shades of the snow beyond. Makoto thought he could hear Chet Baker call:

_There will never ever be another you._

“Cynthia, I’ve created a monster. Put me out of my fucking misery” Abby fell back onto the couch dramatically. Cynthia grunted as Abby’s head fell into her lap.

Cynthia set her phone down on the arm of the couch and shrugged,

“I don’t know. I think its kind of sweet.”

Abby sat up abruptly to point at Edamura and Laurent sitting at the kitchen table.

“You think that’s sweet? It’s not, it’s gross.”

Laurent had pulled Edamura into his lap and was resting his head on Edamura’s shoulder. He looked at Abby with those clever eyes that said: _the fuck you gonna do about it?_

Edamura at least had the decency to look embarrassed when Abby called them out. Laurent kissed Edamura’s cheek and smiled at Abby, fox-like. She scooped a loose slipper off the floor in front of the couch, probably Edamura’s, and flung it at them. It hit Laurent in the shoulder,

“Get a room!”

Edamura and Laurent shared a look, which was incredibly annoying, then got up and left the apartment. Abby laid back down. Sweet peace.

“I’ve been thinking,” Cynthia mused, “You did actually help them get together, but it was probably a bad idea to provoke Laurent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote this little extra thing super quickly so sorry if it's not very good. This was actually my original idea for this fic, but I got too carried away by the New Year's plot bunny.
> 
> Also, unfortunately, I will never write smut for this fandom (I don't write smut in general). Particularly because I work with a boy named Makoto and that makes me slightly ~uncomfy~
> 
> If anyone is interested to know, the park they are in is called Humlegarden.

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is tragically lacking in fics, so I took matters into my own hands. Leave kudos. comments, I want to see what you all think of this!


End file.
